


when your heart releases

by astralitte



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira's POV, Alternate Universe, External Non-Graphic Violence, M/M, TW: suicide (Goro's mother)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralitte/pseuds/astralitte
Summary: As with every Saturday, he came in with a quiet ring of the door. Somehow, I could always distinguish it even over the clamouring that came with working in a popular neighbourhood coffee shop.He seemed to be solitary in the exact sense of the word. Seemed to be sad and lonely. Tragedy weighed on him the same way he lugged his briefcase around. And though he turned heads every time he walked into the store, he never noticed.I guess some people just never realise how beautiful they are.I remember that being the first thought I ever had about him.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 17
Kudos: 43





	when your heart releases

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated birthday, Goro boy! You would have been 22 this year, but you're... y'know...
> 
> A shout-out to everyone in the Soft Goro Week 2020 Discord server! I love all of you so much, especially my bros. You know who you are. Please come and join us for Soft Goro Week 2020!!! Everyone here is super friendly and supportive ♥ https://discord.gg/NvTux8s
> 
> Here's an angsty Akeshu playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0fu9hNALLMDvoHVQQfID5D?si=H-lmJknXSOSNqucXyk5T2w
> 
> I would recommend listening to the following in the playlist to vibe with the fic:  
> 1) ocean eyes by Billie Ellish  
> 2) Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens  
> 3) Sick In The Head by The Lumineers  
> 4) ナイロンの糸 by Sakanaction
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I apologise in advance.

Might you have come here,

or did I perhaps go there?

I cannot recall…

Was it dream or reality?

Was I sleeping or waking?

― Anonymous

i.

As with every Saturday, he came in with a quiet ring of the door. Somehow, I could always distinguish it even over the clamouring that came with working in a popular neighbourhood coffee shop.

He seemed to be solitary in the exact sense of the word. Seemed to be sad and lonely. Tragedy weighed on him the same way he lugged his briefcase around. And though he turned heads every time he walked into the store, he never noticed. _I guess some people just never realise how beautiful they are._ I remember that being the first thought I ever had about him.

I noticed that he always had the same routine: he would order his coffee (black, with two cubes of sugar), find a spot to sit, pull out a book to read, and leave precisely three hours later.

He even roughly wore the same clothes each week. A white button up tucked into black slacks. Black loafers. Black gloves. A tie. A sweater vest when it was cold. A tan coat when it was even colder.

I could never understand that—having such a strict routine. Working in a coffee shop allowed exposure to different elements, to new customers and stimuli. And even then, I still found myself doing something different every day when I wasn’t at work.

He had a tendency of bringing a new book each week, but there were a few books that he liked to reread, like the ones by Nietzsche, Hegel, and Leblanc. I guessed he was a serious sort of person. Well, as serious as you could get when you still had a heart for something as diverting as a phantom thief.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been noticing him. It seemed like a year. Maybe longer.

Our eyes never met—me, because I kept my eyes trained to look at the counter, and him, because he glued his eyes to his phone whenever he ordered.

I knew, though, that his eyes were the magnificent shade of russet brown.

The shop was always crowded with tourists and locals eager for take-aways. Despite having to take orders, my eyes were hopelessly drawn to him each time he was here. I liked watching his habits. Liked imagining what he’d have to say about whatever book he was reading.

Often, he smirked at his books, like he had something to comment on about the writing. Other times, he grinned at his books, like he was caught up in its adventure.

Every single time, I imagined that I was the one he was grinning or smirking at.

ii.

I lived above the coffee shop. Sojiro had been kind enough to let me stay there as long as I worked two shifts a week. Kind enough to let me take on extra shifts if I really needed money. Most days, I went to the library at my university to work on my master’s thesis. But my thoughts always lingered back to Leblanc, the coffee shop. I loved the quaintness of it. How it stood out in the neighbourhood that contained the older parts of modernised Tokyo. And perhaps because of that, my thoughts also always lingered back to _him_.

One Saturday in June, I had to take the day off. That was what led us to talking for the first time outside my taking his orders.

I was making my way out of the shop, lost in my train of thoughts. Had I left my research articles in the train last night? At the library? I vaguely remembered packing it into my bag, but I couldn’t for the life of me find it anywhere. Those documents were important, and I was at a crucial part of my thesis.

“You’re not working today?”

Without even looking up, I could tell by his voice that it was him.

“Unfortunately.”

“That’s a pity. You always make my coffee perfectly.”

That made me smile. “Classic French roast, black, two cubes of sugar.”

“Impressive.”

I just kept smiling to him. I was sure that I seemed like a bit of an idiot.

“Your eyes are always on me.”

Embarrassed, I rolled a lock of my fringe between my fingers. “So you noticed.”

“It’s alright. I observe you too.”

“Oh.”

He laughed under his breath. In that moment, I felt like I would have done anything just to get him to laugh again. Unwittingly, I asked, “Are you single?”

He was taken aback. I knew I was being far too forward.

“I’m not looking to hook up,” I hastily added, then winced at how accusing it might have sounded.

He laughed. “I’m single. You?”

“Yes.”

“How about you buy me coffee?”

“I mean, I already make your coffee every week.”

“I could always go to another coffee shop.”

“Please don’t.” I cringed. I hated how desperate I sounded.

“I’m only teasing.” He had a grin on his face, the same one he reserved for his books.

I tugged at my fringe.

“Kurusu-san, was it? I heard people addressing you by that.”

“Yeah. My name’s Kurusu Akira.”

“It’s nice to finally chat with you. I’m Akechi Goro, by the way.”

I was never gladder that my glasses hid my face well. “My pleasure, Akechi-san.”

“Well, shall we exchange numbers for now?”

A little dumb-founded, I found myself nodding and pulling out my phone. The process was fast. He was an efficient kind of person. I respected that.

“Text me later.”

“I will.” I was already excited to.

“Oh, right. Weren’t you heading somewhere?”

I remembered my research articles. “Shit, I should go.”

iii.

The next time I had a free day, I sent him a message.

**Akira:** Hey, are you free today? 

**Akechi:** And here I thought you forgot about me.

**Akechi:** Luckily for you, I am.

**Akira:** Sorry. Got caught up with my thesis. 

**Akira:** Wanna meet up? I’ll make it up to you. 

**Akechi:** I’ll give you one chance.

**Akechi:** Do you have any place in mind?

**Akechi:** Otherwise, we can head to Inokashira Park.

**Akira:** That’s perfect, actually. 

**Akira:** Want me to bring you some coffee? 

**Akechi:** Ah, a man after my own heart.

We met at the train station. I arrived later than I meant to. Akechi perked up when he saw me. It was endearing, but I supposed that he would not appreciate being called such.

“You're five minutes late,” he said to me.

I held up a tumbler to him. “Forgive me?”

He snatched the coffee from my hand, then looked away. “I'll think about it. I still haven't forgiven you for that other thing.”

“That other thing?”

“Don’t act coy with me, Kurusu.”

“Right, the text message.”

He scoffed and started walking ahead of me. We strolled next to each other in silence for ages. Akechi kept sipping at his coffee. I tried to watch him through the corner of my eyes.

When we passed Tanamitsu Shrine, he said, “What’s the matter?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not blind, you know. I can see you staring.”

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look?”

He choked on his coffee, glaring at me with molten eyes.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Isn’t this why we’re out on a date?”

“I wasn’t aware that this is a date.”

“Now, who’s the one acting coy?”

I took the empty tumbler out of his hand and shoved it into my bag. I offered him a tissue, but he just scowled at me and wiped his mouth with the back of his glove instead.

“So why the gloves?” I asked.

“They’re comfortable to wear.”

“Surely not during summer.”

He shrugged. “I take them off.”

"Yes, when you read.”

“I don’t wear them during summer.”

“You do, sometimes. When you forget.”

“How intriguing. Do you happen to be a stalker?”

“The only person I watch is you.”

“That still fits the definition of being a stalker.”

“Does that mean you’re a stalker too?”

“Could you not?”

That made me laugh. My laugh made him roll his eyes.

Eventually, we ended up in the park proper. I thought that it would have been a good idea to get a bench by the lake so that there might be a cool breeze, but he led me away.

Instead, we found a tree with shade large enough to cover both of us. We sat down on the grass. I was surprised that he didn’t seem to mind getting grass stains.

“Why do you only come to Leblanc on Saturdays?”

“I’m usually busy.”

“You’re not busy now.”

“You were lucky enough to catch me at a good time.”

“That so.”

“Say, why me?”

“I like that you read.”

“Other people read too.”

“It feels like there is connection between us."

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“You don’t seem like the type.”

“But you do?”

“I have a fortune teller, you know.”

“Kurusu.” He didn’t believe me.

“Call me Akira instead.”

His eyes narrowed, so dangerously that it shook my bones.

“It’s not that hard,” I said.

“But we barely know each other.”

“Let’s change that then.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the man who’s been watching me for over a year.”

“I didn’t think that you were interested.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t talk that much.”

“If I don’t say anything, maybe you'll like me more.”

He was twiddling his thumbs and chewing at his bottom lip.

“I’m not a good person,” he said.

“Yes, you are.”

He shook his head, but he leaned in closer to me.

“Can I kiss you?” I asked.

He looked down, nodding subtly.

So I kissed him.

And he kissed me back.

iv.

We stayed there until the sun set. He had warmed up to me enough that he was happy to start rambling on about how he felt about the books that he read. When I asked about Arsène Lupin, he pouted at me.

“Alright,” I said, “then tell me about yourself.”

“There isn’t much to know about me.”

“Tell me.”

And he did, though he struggled to at first. About how he had only really known his mother. About how his father had left his mother when she became pregnant. About being passed from foster home to foster home like an unwanted child. About how he had to live on his own when he turned sixteen. About how he had to work part-time at a run-down bookstore almost every day just so he could afford to pay his rent, so he could keep going to school. About how his gloves were the first present that he ever received and how they were from himself. About how he had a knack in detective skills and ended up becoming a detective. About how he hated the job but had to do it. About how he needed to find out more about his father because his father was dirty. About how he had to do this so that there would be justice. About how he couldn’t stop until the job was done.

It was apparent that he had never told anyone about this before. His emotions came out raw and unfiltered. He never stopped clenching his fists, and he was trying so hard to keep the tears in his eyes from falling.

“That sounds rough.” I didn’t really know what else I could say.

“It’s okay. I’m doing something about it.”

He turned to look at me, eyelashes fluttering against tears that finally spilled. Fuck, he was so beautiful. I reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear.

“And you said that there isn’t much to know about you.”

That pulled a chuckle from his throat.

"Was it too much?"

"No, I don't think you can ever be too much."

He pressed his cheek into my palm, then turned and kissed it. In turn, I leaned over and kissed him.

Later, he asked me, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Akira, I’m a fucking mess.”

He was beautiful even when he swore.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Against his lips, I said, “I’ll never change my mind about you.”

v.

A week later, I received a message while I was working on my thesis.

**Goro:** Good evening, Akira.

**Goro:** I was wondering if you have ever played billiards.

**Akira:** Yeah. Can’t remember much though. Why? 

**Goro:** I see. Would you care to relearn?

**Akira:** Does that mean I get to spend time with you? 

**Akira:** Because if so, yes. 

**Goro:** How do you even come up with dumb lines like that?

**Goro:** Ugh. You’re annoying.

**Goro:** Anyway, meet me at Kichijoji station at 7?

**Akira:** It’s a date! See you later, cutie. 

**Goro:** Idiot.

The place turned out to be a darts and billiards bar. It was well-known enough that it was crowded, but not so popular that it swarmed with patrons. He ordered a whiskey on the rocks for himself and a glass of white wine for me. He didn’t even bother asking me. I liked that about him.

When a pool table cleared and we received our drinks, he spent ten minutes helping me to remember the game. I listened, half-distracted. A part of me still couldn’t believe that we were here. Together.

“Shall we start?”

I nodded, signalling for him to take the first shot.

He leaned over the table, aiming. If I were a better man, I would have spent that moment focusing on how he was aiming rather than staring at his ass.

“Oh, my apologies. A break ace.”

I looked at the table, then at his face. “You seem pleased with yourself.”

“It was a mere coincidence.”

“Uh huh. Well, I guess that’s your win?”

“I wouldn’t count that.”

“As if you wouldn’t keep score.”

“I’m not five, Akira.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

For a second, I imagined that he would get upset and leave. It made me grab him by the wrist.

“You know I’m only joking.”

“I might have when I was younger. Kept score, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I wish we had met when we were younger.”

“I was a bit of a delinquent back then.”

“Were you?”

“You wouldn’t have liked me.”

“You wouldn’t have liked me either.”

I brushed the back of my finger against his cheek. He closed an eye, the other still on me. I started to work my mouth to tell him something that might have been overly fond.

But a particularly loud shot rang from the next table, and the moment was gone.

“Let’s set the table again,” he said to me.

We played a few rounds. Though despite what he had said, he was definitely keeping count. While we played, we told each other about how the week had been. I told him about my thesis for the first time. It was a philosophical paper on Japanese society and taboo subjects. I didn’t go too much into it. I wanted to leave that for another time.

He told me more about what he was doing at work. That he was finally finding enough evidence against his father. He accidentally slipped that he had gotten hurt at work the other day.

I tried to ask him more about it, only to be waved off.

When we were finished, we walked to the train station together. He had to wake up early the next day. Wanting to spend more time with him, I insisted on taking the train with him to his stop. He felt nervous about troubling me at first, but he was more than happy to hold tightly onto my hand while the train lurched us around.

As it turned out, he lived only a few stops after Yongen-Jaya. I teased him for making me think that he might have lived in the direct opposite end of Tokyo.

In return, he pretended to accidentally stomp on my foot when the train came to a halt.

“‘I’m not five, Akira,’” I mocked.

He rolled his eyes at me. I squeezed his hand in reply.

“See you soon then.”

“Mmhmm.”

I walked him to the gantry, and he kissed my cheek before he tapped out. I stood there, watching as he walked away. When he reached the traffic light, he turned back to me. “I knew you’d be watching!” he called out. He seemed so happy in that moment.

The people around him turned to stare in distaste. He noticed this then covered his mouth in embarrassment. Even from a distance, I could tell that his cheeks were pink.

I shrugged, not saying anything.

He dropped his hand and scowled at me. When the traffic light went green, he started to walk. It was only when he was almost swallowed by the crowd that he turned back and stuck his tongue out at me pettily.

I kept watching until the light turned red. Then, I watched a little longer.

vi.

When I arrived home that night, I thought about what he had said to me about getting hurt on the job. It worried me, how he had changed the subject so offhandedly when I asked.

I forced myself to think about all the things that he had said to me about his job, including whatever he had texted me while he was working.

It took me ages to realise. I recalled how much conviction he had when he spoke about exposing his father. It seemed like he carried a lot of hate. I could understand, to an extent. I hadn’t spoken to my parents in years. But this was different. He hated his father so much that he was fine with staying as a detective even though he disliked the job. But why did he have to be a detective just to do something like that? Was it because he would be allowed access to things that a civilian wouldn’t? There were too many implications. Besides, even as a detective, he shouldn’t be allowed to work on his own father’s case. If there was even a case. Maybe he was going rogue. Maybe he was doing something stupid. What was I thinking? _God._

I texted him, my heart pounding in my ears.

**Akira:** Whatever it is you’re doing, please just stay safe. 

**Goro:** Don’t be silly, Akira. There’s nothing to worry about.

**Goro:** I’m home right now. Sleep, okay?

**Goro:** I’m going to bed too.

I couldn’t bring myself to reply him. All I could do was clutch my phone and think _stay safe stay safe stay safe._

vii.

The next Saturday, he came to Leblanc even before the sun rose. He banged at the door so loudly that it frightened me from my sleep. He didn’t stop until I rushed down, cursing Sojiro for not wanting to install a proper doorbell.

He flew into my arms the moment I opened the door. He looked tired. Like he’d been up the whole night.

“The department decided to shut down my father’s case,” he whispered.

So, his father did have a case.

I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Were you working on it?”

“Not officially,” he admitted.

For the first time, he came up to the attic. He stopped when we reached the top of the stairs, taking in his surroundings.

“Like it?” I asked.

“It’s not what I imagined, but yes.”

Grinning, I tugged him to sit on my bed. I guessed that he was feeling anxious. His hands were tight fists—a habit that I had noticed him making from all those times I observed him in the store.

“I’m sorry for intruding on you so early.”

“Hey, it’s fine.”

If anything, I was glad that he even thought about coming to me.

“It’s just… I worked so hard to bring his corruption to light. I made sure that team in charge of his case always found incriminating evidence on him. They had so much evidence—I know it. I basically put together all those fucking files.”

I tugged on the corner of his shirt so that he could lean against me.

“But they just decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore. Just like that. There were no explanations. I logged into the system earlier, and everything was just gone. Deleted. All those years I spent. And for what?”

He sighed and flopped onto his back. I laid down slowly next to him. Our legs were still dangling off the edge.

“I can’t just give up now,” he mumbled. “Who would uncover the truth about this bastard if not for me?”

“Can’t you just—I don’t know—maybe let it go?”

“No, Akira. I have to do it. It has to be me.”

He turned his back to me. His shoulders quaked. Then, he started to cry.

I held his shoulder and gently turned him to face me. I guessed that he didn’t want me to see him cry. He was hiding his face behind his hands, but I still noticed tears pouring down where his hands couldn’t hide.

As if reading my thoughts, he buried his face into my shirt. He sobbed even harder. My shirt soaked through easily. I held him in my arms and ran my fingers through his hair.

Although I usually knew what to say whenever one of my friends was crying, I couldn’t find the right words to comfort him. I was afraid that saying the wrong words would make things worse. And afraid that saying the right words would make him get upset at me for coddling him.

I kept pressing tiny kisses into his hair and toying with his hair. Luckily, that seemed to work just fine.

Eventually, his crying faded into sniffles, then hiccups. The sun was starting to rise outside. I’d have to start work soon, even if I was reluctant to leave him.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said.

“You’re never a bother,” I told him.

He pulled his face away from my chest. There were dark circles under his puffy eyes. He looked tired earlier, but he just seemed exhausted now.

“You should try to rest. I’ve to head down for work, but you can stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t, Goro.”

He made some kind of strangled noise but relented. His eyes were already starting to shut.

“C’mere,” I whispered to him, half-lifting him so that he could lie on the bed properly. He was so damned light. It didn’t help that he even whimpered when I shifted him. I wondered if he ate properly.

He mumbled something that sounded like my name and a ‘thank you’. Not a minute later, he was fast asleep.

Still unwilling to head down and start opening up the shop, I sat by him and looked out the window. It was dreary outside. As if the dark clouds were reflecting the turmoil inside Goro’s heart. As if the lightning was echoing how I felt about seeing Goro so broken up.

I took off his shoes and socks so that he could be more comfortable, putting them down next to the bed. I had to force myself away from him and get dressed. Downstairs, the bell rang. Sojiro was already here and calling out for me.

During lunch, I went upstairs to check on him, bringing a plate of curry up with me. He was still asleep though, so I left the plate on the rack next to the bed. I sent him a message on the phone so that he would know the curry was for him. His phone buzzed once, but it thankfully didn’t wake him.

Sojiro let me off work a couple of hours later, grumbling that I was no use to him in the shop if I was going to be so distracted. I apologised non-stop, despite being overwhelmed with relief, but he just clicked his tongue at me and jerked his head for me to go upstairs.

Goro was awake. He had finished the curry, but he was lying down on the bed. I climbed into bed next to him after taking off my apron and shoes.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

He didn’t say anything, but I could tell that he was feeling better. His eyes shone with something like resolve. I started to ask him what he was planning, but he placed a finger on my lip to silence me.

“That’s enough about me,” he chided. “Tell me what I don’t know about you.”

And I told him. About how I had lived with two neglectful parents as a child. About how I sometimes had to dig out of my neighbours’ trash just to feed myself. About how my parents had forced me to get a part-time job as soon as I was old enough to. About how I had tried to save a woman from sexual assault but got charged with a crime that I didn’t do. About how my parents had been so quick to send me to Sojiro afterwards even though they didn’t know who he was. About how Sojiro had been my saving grace. About the first woman I loved who hurt me and left. About the first man I loved who strung me along and then jilted me. About how I kept going on and how Sojiro kept having to pick me up. About how lucky I was that Sojiro became the father I never asked for.

Goro touched his fingers to my face. I didn’t even realise that I had started crying.

His eyes followed another tear that leaked out of my eye. “So you’re tragic, just like me.”

“I don’t think myself as tragic.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t have it that bad.”

“Yes, you did. But you made things better for yourself.” He was quiet for a moment. “I wish I had your courage.”

He brushed his fingers against my cheek, smearing the tears. I kept staring at him, wondering what he would do next.

“You’re too good to me,” he lamented.

But before I could reply, he started to kiss me. And then, we started to undress each other, our movements slow yet frenzied. There were fading bruises splattered across his skin. Even then, I still found him beautiful. I wanted to ask, though I knew he wouldn’t tell. So I worshipped each one with my mouth and hands. And he let me.

viii.

Later into the night, I laughed so hard watching him try to play the fighting game for Featherman that I toppled off the bed. He was extremely unimpressed by my antics, playfully using his foot to step on my face. I continued laughing.

“You’re playing on easy mode and you still suck.”

“I hate you so much sometimes,” he huffed. He dropped the controller on my stomach when he lost yet another round.

“Okay, honey.”

He stepped down harder on my face, wiggling his toes before he bent over to look at me. “Being down there suits you,” he jested. Maybe. He seemed half-serious.

I grinned up at him, grabbed his foot tightly, and started to tickle him. He started to thrash and cackle. His laughter was wondrous. It resounded through the attic. That was the exact moment that I realised how much I had fallen in love with him.

The feeling had hit me so hard that I abruptly released his foot from my grasp. He kept giggling, unaware. I didn’t want to tell him about it, though these days I wonder if doing so might have changed anything.

When he sobered from laughing, he said, “You know, the last time I played a video game was when my mother was still alive.”

I snapped from my thoughts. “What happened to her anyway?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You said that your father left her and that you were sent to different foster homes. But you didn’t mention why you were ended up there.”

“Right.”

I sat up to look at him. “Will you tell me?”

His eyes skittered away.

“Only if you want to.”

He propped himself up on an elbow and ran his other hand through his hair. “She died,” he said simply.

“How?”

“She died,” he sighed, “because she killed herself. After my asshole of a father left her, she brought me up alone. We stayed in a one-room apartment. She was a beautiful woman, but she wasn’t study smart. Never completed high school. She became a sex worker. She thought that it was the only thing she was good at. Every time she brought home customers, she made me go the bath house. Naturally, I went there almost every day. One day, I came home and found her in the bathtub. She didn’t leave a note.”

I expected him to start crying then, but he didn’t. He just sat there with a look in his eyes. A look that said he had never gotten over his mother’s death. A look that said he still clearly remembered the day that he had found her.

I hated that look. Hated imagining a younger version of him by himself, trying to wake his mother up.

“For a while, I thought it was my fault. I couldn’t stop blaming myself and I became a problem child. That’s why the first three foster homes didn’t want me. But after it hit me that the true reason for my mother’s death was my father, I realised that I had to be a good child. I don’t know why, but the foster homes after that still didn’t want me. I guess I’m just unwanted everywhere I go.”

“You’re wanted here,” I murmured, moving myself onto the bed. I held his perfect face in my hands. “You’re always wanted here, okay?”

His eyes softened. “I really wish we had met earlier.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Maybe I would have grown up a very different person.”

“There’s nothing bad about you now.”

It was his turn to cup my cheeks in his hands. “I don’t deserve you,” he told me.

I wanted to scold at him for thinking that way.

“You can’t change things now, Akira. I have to avenge my mother. There would be no meaning to my life if I didn’t.”

ix.

Goro took me to his house for the first time the following week. It was so cramped that his kitchen only consisted of a mini fridge, a sink, and a tiny overhead cupboard. That his bed doubled as his desk’s chair. That his microwave was seated next to his laptop on the desk. That it was impossible to turn on the shower without drenching the toilet seat. It was almost what I expected given that he was living alone and in Tokyo.

I guessed only I was lucky enough to be handed over to someone like Sojiro.

“Your place looks like shit,” I said honestly.

He tossed me a look, one that told me how well aware he was of that fact.

I could tell that he hated being there, though it didn’t stop him from crashing his lips into mine. He pulled me to his bed and was quick to discard our clothes. His shirt landed in the kitchen sink. My jeans on the bathroom floor.

We fucked so hard in that tiny space that our limbs kept banging into his desk. One of his neighbours got so annoyed that we heard a blaring masculine voice cussing at us, followed by a loud thump on the wall. It did nothing to deter us, but we laughed when the neighbour shouted at us again and ended up slamming the front door—they’d gone out.

When we were done, we had to take turns cleaning ourselves up in the bathroom. While I waited for him, I allowed my mind to wander. I thought about all the times he had shown up at Leblanc before we had started talking. I thought about all the things that I had wanted to know about him back then and all the things I finally learnt.

I felt like I was a teenager learning about romance again.

The water in the bathroom stopped running. There was a faint rustling, then the bathroom door jerked open.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, he flashed me a sheepish grin.

And I felt my heart burst the way a balloon would in the hands of an unsuspecting, playful child.

x.

As much as I hated routines, we fell into some semblance of one, meeting up whenever we found the time to. He still came into the shop on Saturdays and read his book, but he would wait until the shop closed at nine, and we’d head out afterwards to watch a movie or play billiards. He’d stay at mine. Either way, I always made him breakfast the next morning. Pancakes. They were his favourite. He always haunted me in the kitchen when I cooked them. His eyes trailing me like a lost kitten.

We would always spend Sundays lazing around in my room, watching reruns of older Featherman episodes with our pancakes. Sometimes, we ended up making love to each other. In the afternoon, Sojiro would holler at us to come down for some curry. Then, we would play some video games or chess. I had no experience in chess, but Goro had procured the board from the second-hand shop nearby. He was happy to teach it to me. He was not happy that I picked it up so fast.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he complained.

“Aren’t you tired of that line?”

“It’s not my fault you’re so irksome.”

“But it’s definitely your fault that you’re so fun to tease.”

“Shut up, Akira.” He punched me lightly on the arm.

Weeks flew by, each one scattering more wounds across Goro’s skin. I could tell he was starting to get mixed with the wrong people, even if he denied it. Every other day, I tried to convince him to give up whatever it was he was doing. He always avoided the subject, constantly telling me that he was fine.

I also tried to find out more about what he was up to. I even snooped around his apartment for clues, but he was too good and covered his tracks well. I tried to message Makoto, whose sister worked with the law. It was to no avail. Her sister didn’t even know who Goro was. I asked Futaba for help. Her comprehensive hacking could only inform me that Goro’s biological father wasn’t recorded in system and that he had eight foster homes over a span of five years. Every search came back fruitless.

Frustrated, I distracted myself with my thesis for as long as I could. Worries about Goro lingered in the back of my head like an infestation. I wanted to nurse that itch the way Goro nursed his whiskey. Deliberately. Exhaustively. Utterly.

Then, one day, I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why don’t you move in with me?” I suggested.

“Here?”

“Yes. Stay with me.”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble Sojiro-san.”

“He doesn’t mind. I’ve already asked him.”

“Where would I store my things?”

“We can buy some cupboards. There’ll be enough space.”

“That sounds like such a hassle.”

“If you don’t want to, you can just say it, Goro.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.”

I kept quiet. He ran his thumb between my eyebrows, smoothing out the furrow.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said again.

My teeth clenched. “Then?”

He stared at me for a moment, then he smiled. “Are you worried about my injuries, Akira?”

“What do you think.” It came out a statement rather than a question.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

“Fine enough.”

“Goro, your bruises are getting from bad to worse.”

He shook his head and dropped his hand from my face. “It’s a necessary evil.”

“Is it really worth it?”

“It is.”

“Why?”

“I’ve already told you.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to do whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I’ll be fine, Akira.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“It has to be me.”

“What if you die?”

“Stop worrying about me.”

“You know I can’t do that!”

“You’re fussing too much. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Fine. Let me help you then.”

“What? No.”

“Why not?”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“You have everything to do with me!” I stood, throwing up my hands.

He laughed then, a dark, melodious chuckle. “Are you confessing your feelings?”

I scowled at him.

“You don’t have to. It’s not something I deserve.”

“You can’t just decide something like that.”

He snorted.

“Let me help you,” I said.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What if you die?”

“What if _you_ die?”

“Akira, I can’t risk getting you hurt. You mean too much to me.”

“Oh, so it’s okay if you get hurt?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Are you even hearing yourself?”

“We’ve talked about this enough.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Just leave it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

We shouted at each other the entire night. It wasn’t the first time that we had argued, but it was the first time that we had gotten so angry with each other that we ended up trading blows. We had sex afterwards, so mercilessly that we wound up on the floor. Perhaps that had been the only way that we could have resolved such an argument.

“I can’t stop what I’m doing, Akira,” he told me, as we cleaned up the mess that we had created. I was thankful that it was already late at night and the shop had closed.

I paused folding our clothes and looked at him. He was looking back at me. A minute later, I admitted, “I know.”

“That doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Are you confessing your feelings?”

“Shut up, you jerk.” His ears were a furious red.

Then, I thought that maybe it would be okay. If we could just go on like that forever.

xi.

He called me out of the blue on the second day of February. I was in the library, so I had to quickly pack my things and step outside to take the call.

“What took you so long to answer?”

“I was in the library.”

“Shit. Are you busy? I can call back another time.”

“No. What’s the matter?”

“Actually, can we meet instead?”

“Leblanc?”

“Yeah. See you in fifty.”

After making sure that I didn’t leave any of my things behind, I hurried to the train station. The ride back would take me forty minutes. I spent the trip contemplating the next step of my thesis, about what other counterarguments might come up and whether my paper would come across as too moralistic. I didn’t want to scare off readers who might disagree. My advisor, Maruki, had already said that the topic was controversial enough.

When I arrived at Leblanc, I found Goro deposited into his usual seat by the counter, grimacing into his coffee.

“Were you here long?” I asked him.

“Only about ten minutes.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Nope. I thought we could have some curry together.”

I grinned at him and left my bag with him, nodding at Sojiro in greeting as I pulled an apron over my head. It wasn’t terribly crowded. I made myself a cup coffee and shovelled curry onto two plates. Then, I took a seat next to Goro.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His eyes darted to Sojiro, who was in the kitchen starting on a new pot of curry.

“We can talk about it later.”

The next words he said came out rushed. “I can finally take my father down.”

My heart skipped a beat. I forced myself to swallow my food, then say, “Will you be safe?”

“I think so. I’ve planned it all out perfectly.”

“Okay,” I said, but I didn’t believe him.

We went upstairs after we finished our food and I helped Sojiro with some dishes. Goro was more talkative than usual, so I let him chatter away as I listened. He told me about how he wanted to go cycling with me once everything was over.

“Are you sure you’re going to be safe?” I asked.

“Yes.”

It didn’t ease my doubts. “What do you have to do then?”

“I can’t say, but it has to be me.”

“Can’t it be someone else?”

“No, Akira. Only me.”

xii.

That night, he received a call that he took downstairs. He spoke to his caller rapidly in a harsh, demanding tone. I could hear him pacing, his steps frantic. I tried to eavesdrop on what he was saying but failed to despite how much I strained my ears.

When he was done, he stomped up the stairs and came to me. He straddled my hips in a swift action and held my shoulders with both his hands. There was a tremble in his touch.

“I have to go,” he told me. “I should be back by Monday.”

My heart sank. Had something gone wrong? He was supposed to stay the night.

“You don’t have to.”

“I must.”

He pressed his lips to mine once. Twice. Thrice.

“I have to go,” he repeated himself.

Then, he was away from me, picking up his clothes from the floor and pulling them on. I scrambled to the side of the bed to watch him. Words wanted to spill from my lips, but I couldn’t find the right thing to say. All I could do was watch him helplessly, my shoulders shaking in fear.

Before I knew it, he was completely dressed. He stood before me and tilted my chin up with his thumb. His smile was soft, his brows knitted. It seemed like he wanted to say sorry, though I knew that he wouldn’t.

“Promise you’ll be safe,” I eventually said.

“I’ll try,” he said, then hesitated. “Hey, I’ll text you, okay?”

He left shortly after that, leaving me alone to the expanse of my room. An hour later, I forced myself to get up and brush my teeth. I checked my phone, but the only messages that I received were from Yusuke and Haru.

On Friday, he sent me a message.

**Goro:** I love you.

**Akira:** I love you too. 

**Goro:** Let’s watch that new season of Featherman together.

On Saturday, he called me. His voice sounded ragged, though he kept his voice light and happy. He was putting up a façade, I knew, but I didn’t get a chance to say anything. All he did was tell me that he missed me, then he hung up.

When Monday arrived, I waited for him outside his apartment.

But he never came.

xiii.

After I went home, I tried to call him every hour, but it always went to voicemail. He never spoke about his friends. I assumed he didn’t have many. There wasn’t a single person I could call to ask about him. I tried not to panic. Maybe he had eloped with someone else. Maybe he was just running late. Both thoughts were infinitely better than what I had in mind.

I walked to the nearby convenience store and bought myself a can of Suntory Highball. I considered a pack of cigarettes but decided against it. I had promised Ann that I wouldn’t smoke again. She would probably get Ryuji to bonk me if she found out, whatever that meant.

The pre-mixed alcohol tasted shit in my mouth. I thought about calling my friends, but everything that they knew about Goro was through me. They’d only met him a couple of times. It was pointless to call them anyway. It was late and I could just be overthinking. God, I hope I was just overthinking things.

I couldn’t sleep all night. I kept myself up thinking about every possible thing that could have happened. Every possible thing that didn’t end badly.

In the morning, I turned on the television to see if there were any news about people who had gone missing. All that I learnt was that a politician had been found dead in his apartment, a bullet to his head. I realized that it was the same guy who had been the cause of my criminal record. But I didn’t give a shit about him, so I turned off the television.

I ended up going back to Goro’s apartment in hopes that he would be there. It was a stupid hope, of course. I didn’t have a key, so I thought about breaking down his door. I wished I had listened that one time Yuuki tried to teach me how to pick a lock.

Outside his apartment, I paced so much that one of his neighbours opened the door to check on me. She was an older lady, her platinum hair so long that it caressed her waist. She was dressed in a blue knee-length dress. I hated that she didn’t seem surprised to see me.

“You must be Goro’s Akira,” she said kindly. “I’m Lavenza.”

“I’m so sorry for bothering you,” I replied, bowing deeply.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She peered at me. “Pardon me for saying this, but you look horrible.”

“I, uh…”

“Why don’t you come inside?” She opened her door wider, beckoning me with a tilt of her head. “I’ll put on the kettle and we can have some green tea.”

Her apartment, being at the end of the corridor, was bigger than Goro’s. She had a tiny table by the kitchen with two chairs, even though she seemed to live alone. Every corner her apartment emitted a radiant blue. There was something ethereal about this place that felt strangely comforting. Had I been here before?

“Goro often spoke about you,” she told me as she placed a cup in front of me.

I wasn’t even aware that he spoke to his neighbours. I’d never met her all those times I went to his house.

“The two of you were really in love, huh?”

I wanted to correct her. I didn’t understand why she kept speaking about him in past tense.

“Did you see the news this morning?” she suddenly questioned.

“Yes, but there wasn’t anything about Goro.”

“On the contrary,” she said. “It had everything to do with Goro.”

She nudged the cup closer to me. Humouring her, I took a large sip. It tasted like the kind of green tea everyone bought at the supermarket. The kind of green tea Goro loved.

“Did he ever tell you about his father?”

I nodded, but I didn’t know how much she knew so I stopped myself from saying anything.

“That boy really loved his mother,” she said to me. “He hated what his father did to her.”

My hands gripped the cup. “I know.”

“Did he ever tell you who his father was?”

At that, I shook my head.

“Ah, that’s why,” she said quietly.

“Please. Please tell me what happened to Goro.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you what exactly happened to him.”

I was trying hard not to cry. I was already so angry that Goro was missing. That something could have happened to him. But here this person was, the only person who might have a clue, beating around the fucking bush.

“His father’s name is Shido Masayoshi,” she said.

And then it hit me.

xiv.

I drafted a message to ask my friends for help. Then, I deleted it. I made my way down to the nearest police station instead and filed in a missing person report. The whole time, the police officer looked at me in pity as she asked me a set of standard questions. I wanted to tell her that I thought Goro might have been taken out by a hitman, but I didn’t want her to think that I was crazy.

Afterwards, I lurked outside the National Diet Building. I wasn’t sure why I did that. Maybe I hoped to see some form of chaos stemming from Shido’s death. Maybe I wanted there to be chaos to reflect how I felt about Goro being missing.

Out of my wits, I caved and called Makoto. I told her about everything that had happened in a single breath. She tried to calm me down, guiding me to take deep breaths until I stopped hyperventilating. She made me repeat myself slowly. Then, she arranged for me to meet her sister, Sae.

When I met Sae, I told her everything, including every suspicion that I had. That I thought Goro had killed Shido. That I thought someone from the National Diet had Goro killed. But she told me that it was impossible to build a case on what I was saying. Shido’s murder was a locked-room mystery. There wasn’t anything that could be linked to Goro.

Furthermore, there was no solid evidence that Goro was Shido’s child, only the words of a strange neighbour. They could do a paternity test, sure, but the other politicians would be against potentially further weakening their party with a bastard child coming to light.

She told me that she wanted to help me, but it would be difficult to. She said that if she was being honest, she had never even heard of Goro before.

I didn’t let Sae’s words deter me. For the next week, I scoured the news and the internet for information. It didn’t matter what it was about. If there was a lead for anyone that resembled Goro, I followed it. My closest friends tried to help, but there was only so much time they could spare when most of them were working adults. Still, they tried. I appreciated that.

When I went down to the police station where I had submitted the report, there was a male officer there. I asked him if there were any updates, but there was none. He joked that Goro was probably running away from his wife and responsibilities. I wanted to tell him that if Goro had a wife, it would have definitely been me. After that, I went home. The first tendril of hopelessness slowly making its way around my heart.

A month passed.

I tried checking in with the police often. But all they did was shake their heads.

I tried putting up posters across Tokyo. But all I got were prank calls.

I tried asking for help on forums. But all I got were replies from trolls.

I tried talking to news reporters. But all they did was laugh at me.

I tried everything that I could. But nobody else seemed to care Goro.

One day, I broke into Goro’s house. As expected, there was no sign as to where Goro might have gone. I spent my days there. If I wasn’t searching for him, I was sleeping. If I wasn’t sleeping, I was searching for him.

Every time I slept, I dreamt of him. My dreams were memories of everything that we had done together and even before that. He was always smiling. Most of the time, we were in Leblanc. I stood behind the counter, secretly watching him read his book. Once in a while, his eyes would flicker to me. But he never said anything.

Somehow, I managed to finish my thesis and submit it. It wasn’t the best I could do, but Maruki had said that it was enough. I didn’t really care. I only wanted to find Goro, but he just couldn’t be found.

Yet another month went by.

I stopped checking in with the police. They were useless.

I stopped putting up posters. They kept getting torn down anyway.

I stopped asking for help on forums. They were full of assholes.

I stopped talking to news reporters. They didn’t care about the truth.

I stopped going to his apartment. It was just an empty house.

I stopped talking to everybody.

I stopped trying.

More months slipped away, and then autumn arrived. Out of the blue, I received a call from Lavenza. I didn’t recall giving her my number.

“Can you come over?”

My heart started to race. “Did you hear from him?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you have to stop hoping.”

I held on to my phone tighter. I honestly thought that I had.

“They’re clearing out his apartment. Someone has to take his things.”

“Okay,” I replied. “Okay.”

I took a cab to Lavenza’s immediately. At her door, she offered to make me a cup of tea as I entered her apartment. I shook my head.

There was a box with Goro’s name sitting on the kitchen table. My heart broke at the sight of it. I was hit by the finality of his life. Of everything that we ever had. It felt like I was trapped in a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. Had he been a fleeting dream?

But his things sat there on the table.

My Goro.

Reduced to a single box.

“Thank you for loving him, Akira.” It was such a strange thing to hear.

“Is he really gone?”

She reached into the box and produced a pair of black gloves. Goro’s black gloves. “Yes,” she said. “They took me to his body.”

“‘They’? Why didn’t you call me to go with you?”

“They would have killed you too.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can you tell me where he is then?”

“I can’t.”

“I want to visit him.”

“It’s not safe.”

“I just want to say goodbye to him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But—”

“He’s gone to be with his mother, Akira.”

I sat there, speechless.

“He would have wanted you to have these,” she said softly. Her open hands reached toward me.

I took the gloves from her and asked myself if I could have saved him.

“It isn’t your fault,” she said.

Then, I started to sob onto his gloves.

xv.

I made my way back to Leblanc in a daze.

I vaguely remembered taking the long route to the train station.

I think I bumped into people as I stumbled back to the shop.

Sojiro must have said something to me when I came back. I remember it being far too early in the evening.

I sat by Goro’s spot on my bed.

I stared at his gloves in my hands, then I squeezed them to my chest.

All I could think of was burying my face in his hair. His arms wrapped around my shoulders. My arms around his waist.

I just wanted to see him one last time.

But I never would.


End file.
